Prank Time
by GenericDude
Summary: Meta Knight finds himself faced with the challenge of a lifetime as he becomes the victim of a pair of troublemakers' henious prank... Little one chapter story for y'all looking for a nice read!


**A little story I decided to write to break up the action on my other, more tasking stories. Enjoy!**

Prank Time

_"Hey, Kirby!"_

_"Poyo?"_

_"It's me, Bun! Want to do something fun?"_

_"Poyo...poyo?"_

_"I'm gonna pull the mother of all pranks, Kirby, and I want you to help me!"_

_"Poyo..."_

_"No, it's not that bad, really, it's not gonna hurt anyone! I'm planning to pull a nifty prank on Meta Knight, and I wanted to ask you if you wanted in on it!"_

_"Poyo poyo!"_

_"Great! This is gonna be so fun, I can't wait to see the look on Meta Knight's face when he realises what we're gonna do to him! This is gonna be awesome..."_

Sunrise. It always felt so serene to him. It was something that he felt truly fortunate to experience, the undaunted rising of the light, banishing all darkness to the shadows of the past. It was always so quiet; the only time of the day that was quiet. As a loyal and efficient knight, he knew that his days would always be filled with action and noise, even if it was the action of the training rooms and the noise of his feet pattering against the stone floors of the castle during one of his patrols. Yes, he thought, the sunrise was something that he was so lucky to have. It heralded light, life, the rebirth of a sleeping civilisation. He imagined people going to their day jobs, everybody working together in harmony, keeping the world standing and in good control. There was nothing more beautiful, he thought.

As he yawned, he rose up from his bed, rubbing his eyes. It was time to face another day, time to become the mysterious man behind the intimidating metal mask, ready to strike trembling fear into the hearts of any opponent he faced. Reaching for his bedside cabinet, he felt for his trusty mask.

His hand met nothing. Strange, he thought. Turning his head, he saw that for the first time in his life, the cabinet's flat top was completely empty.

He sat up quickly. Where could it be? His mask was usually there every morning, always lying strap side up so it would be easier to put on. He quickly jumped out of bed, his eyes darting around his large room. He could recognize the mask from anywhere, but as he examined the room, he could not see it. The mask was gone. As his eyes scanned the walls, he noticed something else. Something scary.

The walls were strangely empty. Usually, his shoulder plates and cape would be hanging on one wall and his beloved sword Galaxia on the other. But as he scanned the walls, he realised that both were gone, leaving light patches on the wall where the dust of many days had failed to collect.

He started to panic. His heartbeat rose. Not only his mask, but his attire as well! Vanished! Could his boots have gone as well? Quickly ducking to look under the bed, the purple boots he always wore to tread the castle grounds...were gone.

Looking back up, he took a deep breath. This was bad. His entire armour, attire, everything had gone. How was he supposed to guard the castle without his sword and armour? He needed to be at optimal strength to face any danger! He couldn't shirk in his duties, it would disobey his knightly code of honour! To protect and serve the king with every effort! Surely without his armour and sword, his efforts would be lacking?

Then he realised another imminent danger. His shift. He usually woke up fifteen minutes before his shift could begin. Ten of those minutes had already passed, and he had never been late to start his shift. Ever. Not once in his life. Not even when he was ill, or had fought in a death defying battle the previous night. After many years of perfect servitude, it couldn't end like this! Defeated by some lowly wardrobe malfunction!

He had to think. He hated to do it, but he had to substitute what he had lost with whatever he could find. He needed to cover his face. Looking quickly, he saw his curtains. He noticed that they had become rather old and dusty with time, and one of the curtains had developed a rather large rip in it. A hole. Big enough for his eyes. It would have to do.

Quickly, he ripped the curtain right off of the wall, scrambling to find the hole. Feeling the gap in his fingers, he brought the dusty curtain up to his face, resisting the urge to sneeze. The curtains had been ill kept and stunk heavily of age. Grimacing, he pressed the dusty curtain to his face, rubbing it around until his eyes matched with the holes. He then tied it around the back of his head tightly, hiding all features on his face bar his eyes. It worked, but the vision it offered wasn't quite the V shaped hole he was used to. The stray strings of the curtain's patchwork obstructed his view.

Mask sorted, he thought, even if it wasn't good. The tie towards the back of his head left a long piece of curtain dangling like an unkempt pony tail, but it had to do. Four minutes left. He quickly reached for one of his cabinets, grabbing a pair of nearly destroyed trainers. Meta Knight remembered that he used to wear the ruined sneakers when he went jogging. It had been years since he last went for a proper jog, seeming his knightly duties had taken up so much of his time. Looking at them, he saw that there were holes at the fronts of the dirty shoes, and they were certainly many a step down from his well polished purple boots. He slid them on, feeling his feet sticking out of the ends. Horrible. Utterly horrible. The grime and funk of many years' disuse slid against the soles of his feet. A terrible sensation. He started to think of potential perpetrators. Whoever had hidden his stuff was going to pay, **big time...**

Quickly, he noticed he needed gloves. He had an idea, but his reluctance was growing, and so were the limits of his patience. He knew he had a few small, straw sacks that he took when his duties would take him beyond the walls of the castle, but to use them as gloves?

He had no choice. Ambling towards the bedside cabinet, realising that trying to walk in his stinky trainers was a lot harder than his polished boots, he opened the drawer and rifled through until he found two small sacks. Taking a deep breath, he slid his hands into the two of them. They were slightly small, but Meta Knight was just about able to tie the strings, securing the sacks onto his hands. The sacks had no holes in them, therefore eliminating the use of his thumbs. He grew angrier by the second, unable to believe that he had been forced to stoop to such idiocy.

Three minutes. Time was ticking fast, and he needed shoulder plates. Scanning the room with lighting speed, his eyes fell across a box in his room. He realised that he had ordered a saucepan in the past few days, hoping to perhaps dabble in the art of cooking. It was the first step of many he had to take, and he was still figuring out where he would find the time to actually attempt to cook something. But his mind was focused on shoulder plates, and he shuddered as it dawned on him.

Time was running out. With many regrets, Meta Knight frantically tore the box open, pulling the saucepan out. Acting on impulse, he grabbed the tape used to seal the box, ripping it off of the cardboard container, before using it to strap the saucepan onto his left shoulder. He strapped it as tightly as he could to make sure the improvised shoulder plate would not fall off as he moved his arms about. As he finished strapping, he was already focusing on what to do with his free shoulder. Spying the remnants of the box, he felt he had no choice. Reaching out, he grabbed the ripped and ruined box, shaking any loose hanging parts off the cardboard wreck before placing one of the inward bent corners on his free shoulder. Using the tape, he fastened the cardboard shoulder plate onto his free shoulder, the flaps of the box resting against his face and hiding almost half of his entire body.

Two minutes to go. He knew it would take at least a minute for him to go from his room to the throne room to greet King Dedede. Without pause, he dashed for the bed. He was shocked to see that the shoulder plates held together. Grabbing the duvet, he saw only one practical use for it in his current situation and threw it around him. Grabbing the cover of the duvet, he tied an impossibly tight knot around the nape of his neck, turning the duvet into a massively oversized cape with sword and mask pictures emblazoned on its surface. He was all dressed, but there was one thing missing. His sword. And as his eyes fell upon the only reachable replacement, he sighed in utter grief. No, he thought. Could he even bring himself to even **consider **what he had just seen to be a suitable replacement for his beloved Galaxia?

A pot of flowers. Lovely petunias that grew so serenely on the windowsill, leeching from the beautiful sun rays, blossoming. He did not care much for their survival, considering his unfortunate turn of events, but he just couldn't believe that it could work as a replacement. His eyes darted around the room, but there was nothing light enough or sword shaped that he could carry in a hurry. It was the flowers or nothing. And nothing wasn't good enough.

He yelled as loudly as he possibly could. Whoever committed this heinous crime would die, he thought. He stomped to the lovely little flowers before yanking them furiously from the pot they resided in. He had no time to waste, he thought. One minute to go.

King Dedede was sitting on his throne as usual when the doors opened. Looking up to see Meta Knight, he found himself confronted with a different figure. He almost gasped in shock as he contemplated the idea of a possible intrusion, but as he examined the figure that approached him, it dawned on him.

Dressed in tattered trainers that carried a rank smell, holding a small group of pretty pink petunias, the man approached Dedede with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. He had what seemed to be a duvet frantically wrapped around his neck, except the actual contents of the duvet had sagged and bundled all of the way to the back of the long trail of patterned coverings. There seemed to be a box stuck to one half of his body and a saucepan loosely hanging from the other. His hands were undistinguishable; little stumps hidden beneath what looked like sacks. His entire face was wrapped by a cloth, his eyes only slightly revealed.

"...Meta Knight, reporting for duty..." the figure said with a clearly suppressed voice, laden with complete and utter shame. At once, Dedede exploded into a fit of laughter.

"Meta Knight!" he yelled, unable to control himself. "What are you doing? You look like a kid playing at a sleep over, crossed with a terrorist that's just been on a jog! And WHERE did you get those flowers?" he screamed, still laughing uncontrollably. Meta Knight stood there, trying to let his sense of duty cull his desire to kill Dedede. But Dedede continued.

"Oh, please don't hurt me!" Dedede mocked. "Don't hit me with your flowers, I have hay fever, I swear! Hey, where did you get them, on a jog to the botanical store? Hah hah hah hah hah haaaaaaaaaah!"

Sighing, Meta Knight turned around. He knew what his mission was for the day. To seek the ones who ridiculed him this way. There would be no forgiveness. Meta Knight was out for revenge.

And behind Dedede's throne, both Bun and Kirby sat there, their hands to their mouths, trying not to giggle. They knew that Meta Knight's search would be futile, as long as they wouldn't get caught. Only Bun and Kirby knew where Meta Knight's stuff was, and they planned to return it the next night. But for today, they knew that they were in for a treat as they watched Meta Knight fulfil his duties with his new costume. It was times like these when they knew that no time was better than prank time.

**Be a lovely bundle of petunias and let me know what you thought of the story! Thanks!**


End file.
